


I see the angels

by Bexyrogers41



Series: AJ Winchester [1]
Category: Constantine (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Curvy Original Female Character, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Slight crossover with Constantine, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2018-11-30 10:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11462064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexyrogers41/pseuds/Bexyrogers41
Summary: Alexandra Jane is a soldier. Born a Winchester, she knows all about fighting, being forced into the life from a very young age. And she makes the ultimate sacrifice, selling her soul for her younger brother. But what happens when she's somehow back?. And what happens when she finds herself falling for the angel responsible for her being back?.





	1. Lazarus Rising Part One

Silence. The silence is the first telltale sign that something wasn't right, the silence taking the place of the screams and cries that had become my companions for the past forty years. 

And all around me, all I can see is blackness, not the bright orange and blood red that I should be seeing. This...this has to be a trick, another damn mind game set upon me by the filthy demons I'd become acquainted with, the very same demons I know I'm destined to become sooner or later.

If this is true, then why doesn't it feel like that?. This silence is far too deafening, this pitch blackness surrounding me, smothering me seeming far too real, no scent of sulfur mixed with blood and other bodily fluids assaulting my nostrils. 

It....it's not possible, it can't be. My shaking hand moves slowly to what I can feel and know to be my chest, my palm pressing over my heart feeling it beat and thump pretty fast and hard, that thumping rhythm feeling just as real as the silence and blackness. 

I move my hand from my chest to what I can feel is my pants, my fingers trying to locate one of my pockets, it taking me a good minute or two to find it. Once I do, it takes me half the time to get ahold of the object I know was in there before I ended up in the pit, my old fashioned cigarette lighter, feeling instantly thankful that I hadn't quit smoking altogether. 

I pull it out fast, moving it up above me, managing to ignite it, wincing a little from how bright the orange and blue flame is finding I'm where I was starting to suspect I was that's if this isn't all in my head. 

It hits me like a sledgehammer, feeling the first telltale signs of a panic attack start to kick in, my claustrophobia rearing its ugly head, my free hand starting to slam into the wood above me, whimpering loudly. It takes me about ten tries before I manage to break the wood, dirt starting to shower me pretty fast making me cough, finding it a little difficult to breathe, the flame of the lighter going out.

I push my body up as hard as I can, starting to dig my way out finding it virtually impossible thanks to my obscured vision. I nearly cry out the instant my hand gets met with warm, heavenly air, my other hand joining it a few seconds later. I throw both hands out, grabbing onto what I can feel is grass, using it as a leverage to pull myself out of the ground. 

I unleash a massive gasp falling forward onto my stomach, my hands moving to cover my eyes, the sun blinding me, something I thought would never ever happen again. I roll over onto my back, my emerald green eyes staring up at a sight I thought I'd lost all those years ago. Or is it months above ground?.

Suddenly, I start to laugh, my hand moving to cover my stomach, no idea why I'm laughing when none of this should be possible. When I'd sold my soul, receiving just one year left on this plain, I knew exactly what I was signing on for, a one-way ticket to hell. So how is it possible that I'm suddenly free?. I mean, what supernatural being is capable of rescuing a human being from hell?.

I move up into a sitting position, getting up onto my feet, feeling a little unsteady, my laugh quickly dying out seeing where I'd been buried. I can only describe it as a scene of utter destruction, at least thirty or forty trees ripped out of the ground. My fear of how I'd been brought back has just doubled. 

 

"Hello?. Anybody home?," I shout, banging on the door of the gas station I'd luckily come across after what feels like an hour of walking, no idea where the hell I am.

My first thoughts are to contact my brothers or Bobby and yet I'm a little afraid to knowing they wouldn't exactly welcome me back with open arms, more like a knife to the chest. No, I can't ring anyone not until I figure out who or what brought me back. But where the hell am I gonna even begin? .

I give up trying to knock again choosing to break in, my hand smashing the glass then reaching in and unlocking the door making my way inside finding the place deserted, no sign of anyone. 

"Oh thankyou, God," I mutter finding the place fully stocked running to the fridge, grabbing one of the bottles of water, opening it, drinking the entire thing in one. 

Then my eyes land on a small pile of papers moving over to them grabbing the top one, looking at the date: September 18th.

"September. I've been gone four months," I whisper, dropping the paper then making my way to the back of the store finding a sink, a mirror above it.

I slip my leather jacket off, letting it drop to the floor, my eyes never leaving my reflection, my hand moving to the cold water tap, turning it on then proceeding to wash my face, getting all the dirt off.

Then my hands fall to the bottom of my t-shirt, lifting up the material slowly expecting to see big, ugly scars, remembering that hellhound tearing into my chest and stomach, the pain, the blood. But all I can see is smooth, perfect skin, no sign I was ever mauled by a hound of hell.

I drop my hands finding they're shaking like crazy then turning from side to side, my fingers rolling my sleeves up. And I freeze the second I look at my right shoulder in the mirror, finding something there that definitely wasn't there before. It's a handprint, bright red, massive, it looking like its been burned into my skin like some sort of brand, it feeling a little sore to the touch. 

What the hell am I really dealing with here?. What kind of demon would be responsible for this?. Or is it something else entirely?.


	2. Lazarus Rising Part Two

Even though I'm now somehow mysteriously free from hell, there's a very small part of me that's still scared this wasn't really happening, that I'm not really free and this is nothing but yet another sick, cruel mind game thrown on me by my demonic acquaintances. 

And yet it just feels far too real to be a game, the feel of the sun bathing my skin, the warm yet quite cool breeze blowing through my long blonde locks, the various smells flooding into my nostrils just feeling one million percent real. 

That's the real issue here, isn't it?. I shouldn't be free, shouldn't be feeling that sun and wind when I should be in the place I'd been destined to be, surrounded by so much blood and pain. I've never thought of myself as a bad person even though I haven't had the life of a normal thirty-year old woman, me and my two brothers having been raised to put a stop to all the things everyday folk think don't exist. 

Our father was hardly dad of the year, more concerned with catching whatever it was that had took our mom away from us on that fateful night in November. Me and Dean were only four years old when it happened, Sammy just a baby. My earliest childhood memory is of our dad getting me and my twin brother out of our home which was somehow ablaze, Dean carrying our baby brother out. Hard as it is to believe, I still remember the heat, the smell, the smoke, still remember me holding onto my stuffed unicorn, not understanding what was going on, wondering why our mommy wasn't running out with us. 

I'd grown up without a mother's love, the one person who should have been there to help when I blossomed into a young woman. What was even harder was having a father who was hardly in my life. And I should hate him for that. But I just couldn't find it in my heart to do anything else but love him, to still miss him everyday, miss those very rare moments when he would do nothing other then hold me. It's been two years since his death and part of me was still angry at him for sacrificing himself to bring me and Dean back after that accident, selling his soul and the Colt in exchange for our lives. 

Bobby had basically been my real dad, him more or less raising me and my brothers, teaching us more about the hunting life then dad ever did. And I'd wished on many occasions that he'd really been our dad. It was him who'd taught me how to use a gun properly, him who'd taught me Latin, him who'd been there more times then I can count when I'd ranted and raved at the world. And whenever I'd felt like giving up, it had been Bobby who'd convinced me not to give up. 

How the hell am I gonna go about this?. It's taken every ounce of strength I have to make that decision to go to his place knowing exactly how he'd react. Trust me, I keep fearing that I'd see my eyes go black everytime I look at myself in a mirror. Luckily, I'd managed to find some form of transport, some old motorcycle not far from the gas station. It had been either left or abandoned altogether, the keys with it which had made me frown a little. 

I'd found myself pining for that old Impala of my dad's which was passed onto Dean, smiling a little remembering how much my twin loves that car or Baby as he's named it. My smile drops pretty fast remembering what had happened back at that gas station, that weird....force that had swept in hitting me, the glass of the windows shattering causing me to have to take shelter so as not to get impaled. Then there was something else, what sounded like a voice hidden within the high-pitched ringing, the words unclear to me. 

It had stopped before I could make any sense of those words leaving me more then a little shaken, my heart in my throat instead of my chest. One thing's for sure, this is something none of us have seen before. 

 

I try my best to hold back my tears pulling up outside Bobby's pretty ramshackle house remembering all the times me, Sam and Dean had been dumped on him by our dad. Seems like it hasn't changed not once in all these years apart from it looking more rundown. I kill the engine swinging my leg over the seat then getting up off the bike trying to control how heavy I seem to be breathing.

And again my hand moves over to my right shoulder, pressing my palm over the handshaped burn, my eyes sliding closed trying to think again of what the hell it could be. I open my eyes a few seconds later, dropping my hand making my way slowly to the front door, banging on it with my fist. A minute later, it opens, my eyes getting met with the blue eyes belonging to my second father. And as I was fully expecting, he looks shocked rigid, those eyes widening fast like saucers. 

"Hey, Doc. S....surprise," I smile weakly, Bobby backing away from me a little. 

"I....I don't...."

"Yeah, me neither. I know how it looks, believe me, but it's me. I'm back."

The next thing I know I'm being grabbed and yanked hard inside the house, ending up slammed against the nearest wall, a knife being thrust up against my throat making me whimper. And my eyes meet an identical pair of green orbs, his face not looking anywhere near as shocked as Bobby's.

"Okay, you got ten seconds to tell us what the hell you are," Dean growls, pressing the blade a little harder into me. 

"Dean, I'm....I'm not anything, I'm me."

"Like hell," Bobby snarls. 

"Bobby. D, please, it's me. I love you, Doc, like a dad. Your name is Robert Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed. You're the one who taught me Latin. Dean, you're....you're my twin. My other half, my best friend. I love classic rock cause of you. You were with me holding my hand when I got my first tattoo. It's....it's me, you have to believe me, please," I whisper, closing my eyes, still feeling the knife at my throat. 

Then I feel it cutting my skin making me hiss, my hiss turning into a sob knowing they wouldn't believe me. I hear the knife hit the floor, pressure being lifted off me making me open my eyes, tears streaming down my face. 

And my cheeks get cupped in Dean's hands, his green eyes boring into my own seeing his own tears building up fast, some escaping running down his face. 

"AJ?. It's....it's really you?," he whispers, running his thumbs along my cheekbones gently, me nodding at him.

And I end up wrapped up in his arms making me completely break down, burying my face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably, thanking God that he'd believed me at last.


	3. Lazarus Rising Part Three

"That don't make a lick of sense," Bobby says, confusion evident in his gruff voice, walking through to the main room of his house which has always been more like a library then a living room thanks to all the piles of books on the floor and above the fireplace, some looking a little worse for wear.

And I think I've read most of those books more then once mainly due to my tiny obsession with literature of any kind. I maybe Dean's twin, but I'm more like Sam, I guess. When I was growing up, I would always try to find time to grab a book, spend hours reading it, sometimes until the early hours of the morning much to the amusement of Dean. Guess that's why he'd given me the nickname Matilda after the girl who loved to read in the Roald Dahl book.

It may sound weird, but walking into this room I can't resist taking a long, deep inhale, that musty old smell making me feel instantly enveloped in warmth making me long to just grab one of those books and sit by the fire. And maybe one of those books could tell me what it was that pulled me out of the pit. 

"I know. You're preaching to the choir, Doc," I sigh following him and Dean, wiping my face which is dripping after I'd had two doses of holy water thrown in my face by both Bobby and my fucking twin, "just to make absolutely sure" the grumpy old man had told me.

"AJ, your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop and you've been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meatsuit...."

"I should look like an extra from The Evil Dead," I nod, flopping down on his couch, my fingers moving to rub my eyes, feeling utterly worn out yet completely wide awake like I didn't need to sleep for at least a month.

"What do you remember?," Dean asks, sitting next to me, his hand finding my own making me turn to look at him.

"Honestly?. Not much, really. I remember that hellhound turning me into his chew toy. Then....lights out. Next thing I remember is waking up six feet under."

I feel like the worse person in the world for lying to Dean as well as Bobby. But how the hell can I tell them the truth, that I remember everything, worse of all WHAT I did in order to put an end to the torture I'd been put through for thirty of those forty years. If they knew the truth I'd end up losing them as well as Sam. I suddenly realise that there's one person missing making me frown. 

"Ummm, guys, where....where's Sam?. What....what's going on?. There's something you're not telling me. He's....he's not...."

"Oh, he's alive as far as we know," Bobby answers. 

"Good. Wait, what do you mean as far as you know?."

"Yeah, umm, Sam took off. He bailed, couple of months ago, wouldn't speak to me or Bobby, turned his cellphone off," Dean explains not sounding exactly happy, just like I'm feeling. 

"What and you just....let him walk away?. Fucking hell," I snarl, moving my hand to my head, running my fingers through my blonde curls. 

"He was dead set on it. Sam, he....he blamed himself for what happened to you. That's why he bailed. These last few months haven't been easy for any of us. We had to bury you," Bobby says. 

"Why bury me, though?. Didn't I deserve a proper hunter's funeral?."

"Well, me and Bobby wanted that for you, but Sam wouldn't allow it. He insisted you'd need a body when he got you back somehow. That's all he said," Dean says. 

"He was quiet. Real quiet. Then he upped and left, wouldn't return our calls. I tried to find him, but he don't wanna be found," Bobby says, sighing heavily. 

"Oh, dammit, Sammy. He got me home all right, but however he did it....it wasn't good. You....you should've seen where I was buried. It looked like a nuke had gone off, dead trees everywhere. Then there was some kind of....force or presence which swooped in at some fill-up joint. And....there's this," I explain to them, slipping my jacket off, dropping it to the floor, my fingers pushing the sleeve of my right arm up, revealing to them the handshaped burn on my shoulder seeing instantly their shocked expressions.

"Son of a bitch," Dean mutters, staring at the mark.

"What in the hell?," Bobby gasps, moving closer to it, his thumb moving to touch it, it feeling a little less tender. 

"It was like some demon or some all powerful creature gripped me and yanked me out of the pit," I say, rolling my sleeve back down once Bobby lets go off my arm. 

"You really think Sam made a deal?."

"I don't know, but that's what I would have done," I shrug, picking my jacket up off the floor. 

I'm feeling more and more convinced that whatever it was that had rescued me wasn't a demon, but something a lot, lot more powerful, something we've never seen before. And that is scaring me a lot more. 

 

I find it impossible to keep in my moans of bliss, the hot water feeling like heaven, my body automatically relaxing, watching all the dirt leave me, no trace of ever having been buried. It's amazing how good a long hot shower can feel after a shitty day.

But I'm still feeling more then a little pissed that Sam could have been the one responsible for my return, that he could have done exactly what I did to bring him back after what had gone down with the Yellow-eyed demon. And I feel sick knowing he may have doomed himself just like I did to myself. He wouldn't do that, surely, not after what had happened to me those four months ago.

I turn off the water, my hands squeezing my soaking wet hair which could really do with a slight trim, stepping out of the shower stall, wrapping a towel around myself, using a smaller one to wrap my wet hair up. Thankfully, Bobby and Dean had kept most of my things meaning I wouldn't have to put those dirty clothes back on.

I walk through to the bedroom which always used to be mine whenever I ended up dumped here by dad, walking to the wardrobe pulling out a pair of black levis, a dark blue tee and my other favourite jacket which is blue denim, pulling all three on after pulling on a fresh set of underwear. 

"Come in, D," I call, hearing a knock at the door knowing instinctively it was him, watching him walk in, sitting on the bed, running a brush through my towel dried hair.

"Hey, how are you doing, Matilda?," he smiles sitting next to me, his arm wrapping around my waist.

"Getting there, I think. Mmmm, I've missed this," I mumble, sighing, resting my head on his shoulder. 

"Almost forgot how cuddly you were."

"Says you, Dean Winchester. You're the cuddly one, not me."

He snorts, his lips moving to my forehead, kissing me softly, his fingers running through some of my blonde locks. 

"By the way, I have something of yours I think you'll want back," he says, releasing me, his hands moving to his neck, undoing something then holding it up in front of me.

"My locket. You....you kept it on you all this time?," I whisper. 

"How could I not?. I knew you'd want me to keep it safe."

I let out a sniffle, feeling like an idiot yet again for letting my emotions overpower me, moving around so my back is to him, allowing him to fasten the chain around my neck, the silver and gold locket resting on my chest. It's probably the only thing I have from my mom, her giving it to me when I was four, a few weeks before she died. 

I turn back around, moving back towards Dean, letting him hold me again, my own arms wrapping around him. And for the first time since I got back, I don't feel like crying.


	4. Lazarus Rising Part Four

Pontiac, Illinois.

Was I really still gonna go through with this?. Was I really gonna reunite with my baby brother knowing exactly how he would react seeing his long thought dead sister up above ground especially after seeing how Bobby and Dean reacted?.

By the time me, Dean and Bobby had arrived at the place where Sam is meant to be, Dean having traced his whereabouts to some hotel in Pontiac, my anger and fear over his involvement in my return had seeped away a little. Now I was mostly worried about how he'd act seeing me again. 

I don't regret doing what I did those four months ago, making that deal with that Crossroads demon to bring Sammy back, the red-eyed bastard gifting me just one year left instead of the decade they always give people selling their souls in exchange for their hearts desires. As angry or I guess that should be furious as Dean had been when he'd found out, I know he would have done the exact same thing I did. 

And I would do it again if I could, my brothers always meaning more to me then my own worthless life does. The worse thing you could go through is losing someone you love, somebody younger then you. And I'd already lost too many people I care about, far too many to count. 

The door of the room opens almost straight away, Dean having knocked, the person answering his knocks definitely not our brother, being more of the female kind, clad in not much at all, her long dark hair loose, trailing around her shoulders. Is this really what Sammy has been doing for the past couple of months, feeling my anger begin to build again. 

"So where is it?," she asks, looking between the three of us.

"Where's what?," Dean asked. 

"The pizza that takes three of you to deliver."

"Sorry, we must have the wrong....room," I said, my voice dying out the instant I see someone walk into view, the anger I was feeling nearly vanishing altogether, that emotion getting replaced very quickly by fear, my heart dropping into my belly like a rock. 

It feels like an eternity since I've seen him making me long to run to him, wrap my arms around him, feel how excessively taller he is then I am, feel his hair tickle my face. But I force myself to resist that urge seeing the shocked look on his face, his hazel eyes locking with my green ones.

"H....hey, Sammy. Long....long time, no see," I said quietly starting to walk slowly towards him, moving my hands out in front of me, moving to touch him, to try and convince myself all over again that all of this is real and not a hallucination, something I'd been doing since I'd woken up in my own grave. 

Suddenly, I get shoved up against the wall hard and roughly, making me cry out, a blade getting thrust toward me, his reaction far from a surprise, Dean grabbing him around the chest, yanking him away from me. 

"WHO ARE YOU?," he shouted, struggling. 

"You know who I am, Sam. It's me."

"Like you didn't do this?," Dean asked, raising his voice. 

"Did what?," Sam yells.

"It's her, it's her. Both me and your brother have been through this already. It's really her," Bobby said, loudly and harshly, his hand pulling the knife out of Sam's possession. 

"W....what?."

"Sammy....it's me, I swear," I whisper moving away from the wall, walking towards him slowly, a little scared that he still didn't believe me. 

And I end up wrapped up in his arms, my own wrapping around his waist, feeling him tremble a little against me, that familiar feeling of his hair tickling my face making it impossible to prevent the sob from breaking loose, breaking down all over again. 

 

"So tell me, what'd it cost?," Dean asked looking down at Sam, him sat on the bed putting his shoes on, doing up the laces. 

"The girl?. I don't pay, Dean."

"Not funny, Samuel. You know damn well what he means. So....what did it cost, huh?. Your soul?. Or was it something worse?," I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes at him. 

"What?. You think I made a deal?."

"That's exactly what we think," Bobby answers. 

"Well, I didn't."

"Don't you even think about lying to us," Dean said, a little angrily. 

"I'm not lying."

"So what, now I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it?. You're some demon's bitch boy?. I didn't want to be saved like this, damn it!. Just tell the fuckin' truth, okay?," I shout, storming over to him, stopping a few inches away from where he's standing having gotten up off the bed.

"Look, I tried everything, that's the truth. I tried opening the devil's gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, AJ, but no demon would deal, all right?. You were rotting in hell for months, for months and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry. It wasn't me, all right?. Alex, I'm sorry."

"It's....it's okay, Sam. You don't need to apologise, I believe you."

"Yeah, me too. I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean sighed, Sam nodding at him. 

"Don't get me wrong, i am gladdened Sam's soul remains intact, but....it does raise a sticky question," Bobby said. 

"If he didn't pull me out, then what did?," I nod, my hand moving to cover my locket, again trying to calm my racing heart. 

 

"Okay, so what were you doing around here if you weren't digging me out of my grave?," I asked, looking up at Sam, taking the beer bottle off him.

"Well, once I figured out I couldn't save you, umm, I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback," Sam said sitting down next to me, taking the bottle back off me seeing I'm struggling, pulling the top off then handing it back to me making me smirk. 

"All by yourself?. Who do you think you are, your old man?," Bobby asked.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Bobby. I should have called. I was pretty messed up."

"Oh, yeah. I really feel your pain," Dean retorts, his fingers picking up the strap of a bra, my hand snatching it off him, rolling my eyes. 

"Anyways, I was tracking these demons out of Tennessee and out of nowhere, they took a left, booked up here."

"When?," I asked, taking a long sip of my beer. 

"Yesterday morning."

"When I busted out."

"You think these demons are here cause of you?," Bobby asked, looking at me.

"But why?," Sam asked. 

"I don't know. But some....thing drags me out of the pit, now this. It's gotta be connected somehow," I shrug, taking another sip.

"How are you feeling anyway?," Bobby asked. 

"What's that supposed to mean, Doc?."

"I mean do you feel like yourself?. Anything strange or different?."

"Besides everyone I love and trust thinking my eyes are gonna suddenly turn black?. For God's sake, it's me, all right?."

"Yeah, well, listen, no demon's letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. They've gotta have something nasty planned."

"Well, I feel fine, okay?."

"We don't know what they're planning. We got a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help," Sam said. 

"I know a psychic, a few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking," Bobby explained. 

"Hell, yeah, it's worth a shot," Dean said. 

 

I can't stop the grin from breaking out on my face watching Bobby get grabbed up in a pretty rough hug by the woman he'd taken us to, some psychic. 

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Bobby said, having finally been released. 

"So are these the Winchesters then?," she asked, turning her attention to us.

"Sam, Dean, Alex. Pamela Barnes. Best damn psychic in the state."

"Mmm-mmm. Alexandra Winchester. Out of the fire, back in the frying pan, huh?. Makes you a rare individual."

"It....it does?," I muttered, finding it impossible not to feel totally comfortable around her, like I can trust her one hundred percent. 

"Come on in," she smiles, letting us inside her house which looks and feels very warm and cosey, the door getting shut behind us.

"So you hear anything?," Bobby asked. 

"Well, I ouija'd my way through a dozen spirits. No one seems to know who broke your girl out or why."

"So what's next?."

"Séance, I think. See if we can see who did the deed."

"A séance?. Isn't that a little.....dangerous?," I asked, feeling instantly worried that it was the wrong thing to do.

"Don't worry, sweety. I just want to take a sneaky peek at it, that's all. Like a crystal ball without the crystal," she smiles giving my arm a squeeze then heading through to the living room.

"I'm game," Dean muttered. 

 

My fear and worries were now at an all-time high, the living room having been set up to do the séance, the circular table covered with a black cloth, a depiction of a pentagram in the middle, six lit candles in the centre, the rest of the room darkened. 

I just can't seem to shake this fear that whatever it was that had raised me wasn't demonic at all, worse that we shouldn't be attempting to make contact with it, that it shouldn't be looked upon by human eyes. Most of all, I'm terrified that Pam could end up getting hurt, even worse that she could end up blinded. But I had to know the truth no matter what the cost.

"Right. Take each other's hands. AJ, I need to touch something our mystery monster touched," Pam said, looking at me.

I nod, slipping my jacket off then pushing the sleeve of my t-shirt up revealing the handshaped brand burned into my skin not missing the shocked look on Sam's face, her palm moving to cover it.

"Okay. I invoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle," she chanted, something weird beginning to happen, the television set near the rear of the room switching on just like what had happened at that gas station, static on the screen, the table starting to shake. 

"I invoke, conjure and command....Castiel?. No, sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy."

"Castiel?. It's....it's name, that's not....," I whispered, feeling that same presence surround me that came to me before, starting to tremble. 

"It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back. I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face," she demanded, the table shaking harder and faster, the dull ringing noise increasing in volume and intensity. 

And I hear that same deep powerful voice I heard before, unable to understand what was being spoken. But I know if I don't make her stop this then it won't end well. 

"Pam, we need to stop this, now," I cried, the table shaking harder. 

"I almost got this. I command you, show me your face. Show me your face now."

The next thing that happens is the flames of the candles shooting up into the air.....and Pam letting out an ear piercing scream, her eyes glowing bright white, her body collapsing to the floor, the candles dying out, my own scream replacing hers. 

"Call 911," Bobby shouts, Sam running out of the room.

"Oh God. Oh God, Pam?," I cried leaping up out of my seat running around to her, watching Bobby pick her up off the floor, the skin around her eyes black like she'd been burned really badly. 

And I nearly throw up watching her open her eyelids seeing nothing behind them, her eyes gone, having been burned out of her eye sockets somehow, blood running down her face. 

I know. Somehow i know what we're dealing with here, part of me knowing all along even though I didn't realise it. It's something I've believed in my whole life, something which shouldn't really exist at least not down here on Earth. There's only one being capable of bringing a soul up out of hell, only one who can burn the eyes out of other beings.

Why the hell didn't I see it right from the moment I crawled out of my grave?. What we're dealing with here....is an angel.


	5. Lazarus Rising Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AJ finally comes face to face with the angel that pulled her out of hell.

My still shaking hands move again under the flow of the freezing cold tap, scooping up another quite large amount of water, moving it up fast to my face, a shiver coming out of me cause of how cold it is.

Having been in this unnatural life since a very early age, I'd experienced more then a few moments in my long seemingly neverending life of hunting, putting a stop to the things normal people think are nothing more then fiction, where I'd been terrified, more then just simply a little freaked out. 

After what had happened at Pam's house, watching her eyes burn out of their sockets, I was feeling that all too familiar of terror. And it was only making it worse knowing exactly what it was that had blinded her, knowing that same thing had pulled me out of the pit. 

Unlike my brothers, I'd always been pretty religious, would try to find time during a job to find a church, to light a candle, pray in silence, my mind and prayers always straying towards my parents, towards the people me and my brothers had failed to save. 

The revelation that it was an angel that had rescued my soul from hell, that they truly exist like I've believed my entire life is making me feel for the first time that one emotion I feel like I'm experiencing for the very first time. That emotion is hope. 

Mom....mom would often tell me before I fell asleep at night that angels were watching over me, over my two brothers. And there were times when I would feel like I was truly being watched as I fell asleep at night. Instead of feeling overjoyed that the beautiful, powerful beings I'd always believed in were real, I feel scared, shit scared especially after what one had done to Pam.

Then there was that name. Castiel. A name I'd known my whole life even before discovering he was an angel. I've known that name from my own body, my own skin, what I always thought was some strange and beautiful birthmark in the middle of my stomach, a couple of inches above my navel. It's just not possible, can't be, that it's the same name, nothing but an extremely freaky coincidence. 

I splash my face one more time then turn off the tap, my hands which have finally stopped their uncontrollable shaking moving to pull some paper out of the machine drying off my face. I know I should tell Dean and Sam the truth about what had freed me, brought me back to them, but I just can't knowing they wouldn't exactly believe me, most of all my twin.

I take a long, deep breath, brushing some of my long blonde tresses away from my face before leaving the rest room heading over to the table in the diner Dean is sat at, sitting down next to him, my hand moving to one of the glasses of water picking it up, downing half in one gulp feeling my twin's eyes bore into me. 

"What'd Bobby say?," he asks, Sam joining us, hanging up on his cell.

"Pam's stable and out of ICU."

"And blind cause of us."

"And we still have no clue what we're dealing with."

"But that's not exactly true, is it?. I mean, at least we have a name. Castiel," I shrug, putting my glass down trying not to let them see how badly that name is affecting me.

"And with the right mumbo jumbo, we can summon him, bring him right to us," Dean said. 

"What?. Are you fucking crazy, D?. Pam took one little peek at him and now she won't be peeking at anything ever again. The last thing we should be doing is arranging a little meeting."

"Well, have either of you got a better idea?."

"Yeah, as a matter of fact I do. I followed some demons to town, right?. So we go find them. Someone's gotta know something about something," Sam explained, looking at us.

"Oh, thanks," I nodded at the waitress, her putting some plates filled with pie down in front of us then proceeding to sit down in the spare seat, her eyes moving through all of us.

"You angling for a tip?," Dean asked, looking at her. 

"I'm sorry, I thought you were looking for us," she said, her blue eyes turning black, revealing her true demonic nature, another one, a man, getting up and moving over to the door, locking it.

"AJ. To hell and back. Aren't you a lucky duck?."

"I was born lucky," I shrugged staring back at her, her black eyes gone, her normal blue eyes in play. 

"So you get to just stroll out of the pit, huh?. Tell me....what makes you so special?."

"I like to think it's because of this beautiful face. How the fuck should I know?. What makes you think I'll tell you or your black-eyed chums anything?."

"You mind your tone with me, girl. I'll drag you back to hell myself."

"Really?. You will?. Nah, don't think so. Cause if you were gonna, then you'd have done it already. You know what I think?. I think you're scared, nope, sorry, terrified of whatever it was that pulled me out. You wouldn't even dare attempt to take me back cause you know this being wouldn't like it one bit. Cause they want me out and they're way, way more powerful then you. So go ahead, try it. Just don't come crawling to me when they turn up on your doorstep with some vaseline and a firehose."

"I'm gonna reach down your throat and rip out your lungs," she snarled, making me smirk a little. 

"What are you waiting for then?," I whispered, my smirk dropping, punching her in the face hard knocking her head back, delivering a second one just as hard straight after. 

"Yep, just what I was expecting. Let's go, boys."

"For the pie," Dean said, throwing some money down on the table. 

-x-

"How are you doing, kid?," Bobby asked, looking over at Dean from behind the wheel, my twin wiping the blood from his ear, that same force that had swooped on me before coming to both of us in that motel room.

I was feeling a little less horrible then Dean was, just a tiny headache setting up home comfortably in the front of my skull. Just like those other two times, the exact same things had happened, that force surrounding us, the high-pitched ringing, all the glass in the room shattering, raining down on us, Bobby bursting in and helping me drag my brother out. 

The only difference this time was that I could make out some words that powerful voice was saying to me. And it was just the two words: my name and Listen. Anything else was still difficult to make out. Why was I able those two words and yet Dean wasn't?. Why was Castiel so keen for me to listen to me?.

"Aside from the church bells ringing in my head?. Peachy," Dean muttered, pulling out his cellphone, dialling a number. 

"You still with us, darling?."

"Hmm?. Oh....oh yeah, I'm okay, Doc," I sighed leaning my head on the window next to me hearing Dean talk to who's obviously Sam.

"Why the hell didn't you tell him?," Bobby asked, Dean hanging up a few minutes later. 

"Cause he'd just try to stop us."

"From what?."

"Summoning this thing. It's time we face it head on."

"Dean, I thought we'd agreed that was the last thing we'll do," I frowned, raising my head off the window. 

"You can't be serious," Bobby said.

"As a heart attack. It's high noon, baby."

"Dammit, Dean," I growled, flopping back on the seat, rubbing my eyes. 

"We don't know what it is. It could be a demon, it could be anything," Bobby said, sounding just as worried as I am.

"So then we gotta be ready for anything. We got the big time magic knife, you got an arsenal in the trunk," Dean answered. 

"This is a bad idea."

"Couldn't agree more, but what other choice do we have?."

"We could choose life."

"Maybe, maybe Dean's right, Bobby. Look, we all know I'm what this thing wants. I....I know it sounds crazy, but I know it won't hurt me. It did bring me back from the pit. I want answers and this is the only way we'll get any," I said, my hand moving to my locket, covering it with my palm.

"We could use Sam for this."

"No, he's better off where he is."

-x-

It feels like we've been sat here for hours instead of time a lot less, just sat around waiting for Castiel to turn up, the rundown derelict barn having been set up for Bobby's ritual. And it certainly doesn't help lessen my fear at all, still scared any of us could end up blinded like Pam. Humans aren't meant to look upon angels, something Pam had learned the hard way making me wonder how the hell we were supposed to hold a conversation with the angel. 

I let out another sigh which quickly turns into a yawn, my hand moving to my face, my fingers rubbing my suddenly droopy eyes, my other hand keeping a loose grip on my shotgun which was loaded with our special rock salt bullets even though I know it would be useless against an angel. 

"You sure you did the ritual right?," Dean asked looking at Bobby getting that all too familiar 'don't be an idjit' look making me smirk a little. 

"Sorry. Touchy touchy, huh?."

Literally seconds later, the roof of the barn starts to rattle and shake violently like a very strong wind has hit the building making all of us get up out of our sitting positions, our grips tightening on our weapons. 

"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind."

Suddenly, all the lights in the barn start to shatter making me squeak loudly, the thick wooden bar keeping the doors shut splitting in half, them swinging open revealing the shadow of a person. 

That shadow turns fast into an actual figure, a man, quite tall, a tan coloured trenchcoat covering his tall frame what looks like some kind of suit underneath. He carries on walking towards us, the lights continuing to shatter as he walks, his face beginning to become clear. 

And I drop the shotgun I was holding the instant I see his face one hundred percent clearly. He's unbelievably handsome, beautiful even, a head of dark brown hair that looks a little messy, perfectly formed cheekbones, perfect smooth looking skin with just a light trace of stubble on his chin, lips that look thin yet a little thick at the same time. 

His eyes, though. His eyes are unlike any I've seen before, pure blue, making me think of the ocean on a summer's day. Those eyes are making me feel unlike myself for the first time in my life.

I don't even realise any action has been taken against him until I hear the gunshots, Dean and Bobby the cause of them, the bullets having no effect on him just like I knew they wouldn't. The only thing I'm having trouble believing right now is how we're all able to look at him and still be able to see.

"Who....who are you?," I whispered, staring at him, those pure, incredible blue eyes of his boring into my emerald green ones. 

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition," he stated, his voice very deep and rough, exuding power making me shiver. 

"Yeah. Thanks for that," Dean said, Castiel nodding at him, then moving forward driving the demon blade into his chest, again having no effect, the angel glancing down at it then looking back up at my twin, his hand pulling the blade out, dropping it to the floor. 

His other hand then moves out behind him, stopping the swing of the iron bar from making any contact with him, it being swung by Bobby. Then he turns around to face him, two fingers moving to his forehead, his body collapsing to the floor. 

"We need to talk, Alexandra. Alone."

"No.....NO!," I cried backing away from him fast, feeling his hand move fast to my arm, everything around me going black, the cries of my brother being the last thing I hear.


	6. Lazarus Rising Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, really sorry about the lateness of this chapter. Obviously as it's AJ who went to hell instead of her brother, there are slight changes in this scene from how it is in the show as it's her talking to Castiel instead of Dean.

A loud gasp bursts out of me, everything seeming to rush back to me at once, blackness turning to light, feeling my legs give way under me, collapsing to the ground on my knees, breathing heavily. 

It's impossible to describe what I'd just experienced almost as if I'd just died then been reborn within seconds, within millionth of seconds. The last thing I remember is standing in that rundown barn, Dean and Bobby next to me, their weapons failing to be of any use against the angel responsible for me being free of the pit. Before blackness had claimed me, I remember his hand grabbing my arm, feeling like every ounce of my being was yanked out of my body, being transported somewhere else. But....but where the hell am I?.

The first thing that hits me is the feeling of cool air hitting my face, blowing some of my blonde locks away from my face, making me slowly look up, finding I'm on my hands and knees in the middle of what looks like a garden. I slowly get up off my knees, finding I'm trembling a little, my eyes moving around, the garden seeming quite small, finding I'm able to see thanks to several quite large, old fashioned lanterns casting gentle, glowing light out. 

Then my eyes land on the blue-eyed angel finding he's stood a few metres away from me. And those incredible blue depths automatically lock with my emerald green ones making me swallow hard, my feet moving of their own accord, backing away from him a little, not knowing why when everything in me is screaming at me to move in the opposite direction. 

"I'm not going to harm you, Alexandra," he said, his stare refusing to leave my own.

"What....what about my brother?. Bobby?."

"They're both alive."

"Who....who are you?," I whispered, not knowing why I'm asking when I already know. 

"Castiel."

"That's....that's not what I meant. I....I mean, what are you?."

"I'm an angel of the Lord."

"You....you do exist," I mumbled, taking a few steps closer to him, stopping myself from getting too close, part of me still refusing to believe it's true, my eyes moving from his own to his back.

That's when I see them, my hand moving over my mouth, my eyes widening. His wings, absolutely nothing like I was expecting an angel's wings to be like. They're massive, filling out practically the entirety of the space we were both standing in in the garden, the feathers a mix of white and grey, reminding me almost of a dove's wings. 

But something feels wrong, my hand dropping from my mouth, taking a quick step away from him finding I've moved closer to him without realising it. It shouldn't be possible for a human to see an angel's wings yet I can see them perfectly. My hand moves to my forehead turning away from him, my eyes closing. This doesn't make any sense, none of it, why I'm able to see Castiel's wings, why I was able to hear him speak to me in Pam's house....and why I'm feeling this intense pull towards him.

"Alexandra."

"Why?. Why did you hurt Pam?. She's blind cause of you," I said, a little angrily, my back still to him.

"I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be....overwhelming to humans. And so can my voice as you already knew that."

"That....that was you at the gas station and the motel. Why didn't you just appear instead of hurting my brother's ears?."

"That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought your brother would be one of them....like you."

I slowly turn around to face him finding he's stood right behind me, my eyes relocking with his own, swallowing hard. And I force myself to take a step back from him knowing that if I gave into my sudden, unexpected desires then I would be making a massive mistake. 

"What....what do you mean?. Castiel, I'm nothing special. I'm just some human hunter. You....you don't understand, what I did down there. All....all those innocent souls I tortured. And for what?. So....so Alastair wouldn't hurt me anymore, wouldn't....I....I can't do this anymore. Why did you rescue me, huh?. You should have left me down there," I cried, feeling tears run down my cheeks, finding he's just stood there, not that I was expecting comfort from a higher being, something that doesn't exactly experience human emotions. 

"You really don't think you deserve to be saved," he mumbled, frowning. 

"Haven't you heard a thing I just said?. Fine....whatever. I wasn't expecting comfort from a damn angel. Just....just tell me why you saved me."

"Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you."

-x-

"Look, D, I'm fine, okay?. Castiel didn't hurt me. He just....wanted to talk to me alone. I just need a few hours to myself. I'll see you in the morning. Bye."

I hang up, slipping my cell into the back pocket of my pants, pulling the jacket tighter around myself, letting out a heavy sigh, my eyes once again moving to the bar opposite from me. 

It's been almost an hour since that talk with Castiel and I'm still finding it impossible to get that conversation out of my mind. What's worse is that he didn't tell me why I'm supposedly special, why God somehow has work for me. I let out a grunt of irritation, my fingers rubbing my forehead then moving into the left front pocket of my jacket. 

Suddenly, my fingers brush what feels like a piece of card, completely forgetting I'd left it in there, pulling it out, moving it up to my eye level. And that name printed on the card in black lettering automatically brings up that one week almost two years ago when our paths had crossed last. I honestly have no idea why I kept that damn card, knowing there was a high chance we'd never meet again.

"This is fucking stupid. The British asshole is probably dead by now," I muttered, pulling my cell out of my pocket, dialing the number on the card, hearing the line start to ring, fully expecting no answer. 

"Hello?."

"J....John?."

"Okay, whoever this is, you'd better hang up now cause I'm not in the mood for bloody prank calls."

"Johnny....it's me. It's really me."

"That....that's impossible. Alex?."

"H....hey, Constantine," I grinned, hearing the shock in his voice. 

"B....but how?. You should be dead, love, in hell."

"How quickly can you get to South Dakota?. I'd rather....explain this to you in person then over a phone."

"Give me an hour."

I hang up, slipping the cell back into my pocket, my eyes moving back to the bar. Looks like I need something strong!.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an idea to bring John Constantine in mainly down to my tiny obsession with him and Matt Ryan. So the next couple of parts will involve Alex and John before going back into the episodes.


	7. Reuniting with an old friend Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I must apologise for such a late update. I am planning on getting right back to this story and I have loads of ideas planned for it. The next couple of chapters will be mainly AJ and John Constantine which I'm pretty excited to write as I have just a tiny obsession with the chain smoking Liverpudlian. Naturally, I don't own any other character apart from AJ.

"This is fucking stupid," I muttered under my breath, my eyes glancing down again to my watch, not that they had really left it much since walking into this place, desperately needing one or two stiff drinks. 

I am slowly starting to think that that phone call was a damn, stupid mistake, that I should have just gotten Dean to come pick me up in Baby. But what was I really expecting from a man I haven't seen in over two years, somebody I'd spent less then a week with?.

John Constantine was someone it was almost impossible to forget. The moment our paths had collided those two years ago, I knew he would stay with me forever. He'd saved my life that night, that haunting at that derelict hospital turning out to be a lot more serious then I'd been expecting. Turned out it was an especially pissed off poltergeist, a young girl who'd been abused by the doctors who were supposed to have looked after her. And me being there to get rid of her had pissed her off even more, my body ending up getting thrown around like a rag doll. 

I genuinely thought she was gonna kill me, that I'd never see my brothers again, dad again, Bobby. I was two seconds away from death probably until I was somehow saved. Even though I'm a hunter, I'd heard, I guess you could say, rumours about John Constantine. How he'd saved me I still have no idea even to this day. And even though he wasn't a hunter, I knew he was a soldier, a survivor like me and my brothers. 

Believe me, I had scoffed when he'd told me what line of business he was in, that he was a master of the dark arts, but I knew instantly that he was being one hundred percent truthful. The truth is I'd grown attached to him more than I'd been expecting which probably explains why I'd stayed with him for over a week.

Walking away was hard, but I'd had no choice. It was a few days before that phone call from Dean telling me that our father had disappeared. I'd walked away fully expecting never to see him again and I know I should have just thrown his card away. Guess deep down part of me didn't want to let him go. 

"Stupid," I muttered again, my eyes again glancing at my watch, letting out a heavy sigh, my hand shoving the card back into my jacket pocket, the other picking up the glass of whiskey, downing it then making my way out of the bar, shivering a little from the quite chilly night air. 

I can't seem to stop my eyes from moving up to the sky above me, the night being clear, staring up at the stunning arrangement of stars, unable to stop my mind from straying to the blue-eyed angel I'm finding myself grow more and more attached to. What the hell could he have meant when he told me I was special?. I don't understand any of this, why I was raised from the pit, why I'm still human, why I was able to hear his voice, see his wings, something humans couldn't do. Most of all, why I'm finding myself grow more and more obsessed with a being who feels nothing for humans. 

The sound of a cigarette lighter snaps me out of my trance, my eyes moving quickly to the source of the sound, those green orbs landing on the figure leaning up against the wall of the alleyway I'd ended up in, watching him light a cigarette, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. 

"Those things will kill you, y'know," I smirked walking over to him, crossing my arms over my chest, watching him blow out a cloud of smoke. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner, love. You....look good."

"You look knackered."

"Still handsome though, eh?."

"See your ego hasn't changed."

"Sorry, Alex, but I need to make sure," he said lowly, putting the cigarette between his lips, pulling a flask out of his pocket, unscrewing the top then chucking the contents at me, making me sigh heavily. 

"God dammit, I'm tired of people soaking me. I'm still me, Johnny. Trust me, if I were a black-eyed bitch then you would have known the moment you saw me, " I sighed, wiping my face with the sleeve of my jacket. 

"Touche. So...why are you back?."

-x-

I shut the door behind me, flipping the lights, my nose wrinkling up a little, the motel room being the typical motel room I've seen hundreds of times. But I guess I've seen worse, my hands shrugging off my jacket, chucking it onto one of the chairs at the table, watching John take off his trenchcoat, turning to look at me, his blue eyes boring into my green ones. 

And I feel something inside me snap, marching over to him fast, slamming my mouth up against his own, feeling him instantly respond, his arms wrapping around my waist, my own wrapping around his neck, my hands moving into his blonde locks. I get hoisted up off the floor, my legs wrapping around his waist, our mouths not parting, his hands holding onto my arse, stumbling over to the nearest item of furniture, the couch, both of our bodies falling onto it, him on top of me.

"Bloody hell, I've missed you, sweetheart," he growled, his mouth dropping to my neck, kissing down it slowly, his hands moving to my breasts, cupping them through my shirt. 

"J...Johnny," I whimpered, my eyes fluttering closed, arching my back a little. 

"Call me that again."

"Johnny, w....wait."

He stops looking back up at me, his hand moving to my face, cupping my cheek in his palm, his thumb running slowly over my cheekbone, his other hand brushing some of my hair back.

"John, I want this, I do, but....but first I need to explain things."

He just nods climbing off me, myself moving up into a sitting position, curling up next to him, resting my head on his shoulder, feeling him kiss my forehead gently, his arm wrapping around my waist. 

"What's said between us stays between us, okay?. I....I was in hell for....for 40 years or at least I think it was. Turns out time moves differently down there then up here. I was only gone four months up here. When I'd made that deal to save Sam I knew I was in it for the long run. I....I don't know what happened, but one day I woke to find myself buried in my own grave. Something had pulled me out of the pit, something...."

"Angelic. Yeah, I know, love. Only angels can retrieve souls from hell. This angel, did you meet him?."

"Yeah. His name's Castiel."

"Castiel?. Are you sure?,"

"More then sure. He told me his name. He, umm, he left his mark on me," I said, lifting my head off his shoulder, moving my hand to my sleeve, rolling it up, showing him the hand-shaped burn on my shoulder, watching his eyes widen a little. 

"Does it hurt?," he asked, moving his hand to it, stroking it gently with his finger. 

I just shake my head, my hand moving to his, picking it up and moving it to my mouth, kissing his fingers gently, my eyes closing, moving his hand to my cheek, stroking it against it. I let it go, feeling it take up my cheek, my eyes opening, staring back at him. 

"I'm....I'm scared, Johnny. I haven't told my brothers the whole truth. They....they think I don't remember what happened to me down there. And I...I don't know what to do. If I tell them then I'll lose them. How will they be able to look at me knowing I tortured souls down there?. Thirty years of torture was too much. I...I couldn't take it anymore," I cried, feeling tears start to run down my cheeks. 

"Hey, hey, look at me. Alexandra, there's no way your brothers would ever give up on you. What you did down there....you had no choice. You have nothing to be ashamed of, you hear me," he said softly, his hands cradling my face, his thumbs wiping my tears away. 

I let out a heavy, shaky sigh, moving into him, resting my forehead against his own, closing my eyes briefly. Then I open them, my mouth moving back to his own, kissing him softly, moving so I'm on his lap, feeling his arms encircle me.

And for the first time since I've been back, Castiel is the last thing on my mind.


	8. Reuniting with an old friend Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be slightly NSFW. John Constantine will pop up a few times throughout this story. This one will lead into the second episode of season four which I will be altering the name slightly so it fits in with AJ being the one who got raised from hell.

"J....Johnny," I moaned, arching my back slightly, the fingers of one hand tangled in the bed sheets above my head, the other running through the blonde locks of his head, feeling myself dangle perilously close to a release, his mouth working at my clit, his fingers moving and pumping inside me.

Think I've lost count of the exact number of times we've made love. I just can't seem to get enough of him. He was like a drug to me just like he was those two years ago. I know this can't last forever, that I needed to return to my brothers and Bobby. Yet a very large part of me wants to do the opposite, to stay with him, forget all about angels, hell and most of all Castiel. Why is it that he's still at the back of mind even as I make love with John?. I can't afford to grow attached to an angel, a warrior of God who isn't exactly fond of humanity.

"Come for Johnny, love," he mumbled, sucking on my clit hard, curling his fingers further up inside me, hitting that sweet spot making me almost see stars, crying out, flying over the edge.

"Fucking hell," I gasped, breathing heavily, my hand moving from the sheets to my forehead, sweat coating my face making my hair stick to me a little, watching him move up over me, his blue eyes boring into my green ones. 

"Think you can manage one more, sweetheart?."

I can't help laugh, pushing him over onto his back, climbing on top of him, straddling him then sinking down onto him, my laugh turning into a groan, slowly starting to move my hips, his hands gripping my hips. I quickly begin to pick up my pace, my hands pressing down on his chest, my breasts bouncing with every move of my hips, feeling his hands move up to grab onto them, thrusting up harder into me. 

Just as I feel myself about to explode, I end up back underneath him, his arms moving under my legs, raising them, angling me deeper for him, slamming back inside me, thrusting hard and fast, his mouth dropping down to claim my own. I can't seem to prevent myself from dragging my nails down his back, scratching him, hearing him grunt loudly, dropping them down to his ass, gripping it pretty hard. 

My release hits me like a hammer, screaming his name, feeling his own release follow mine within seconds, both of us panting. He rolls off me not wanting to crush me, moving over onto his side, staring at me. And I move up close to him, kissing him gently then resting my head on his chest, him moving over onto his back, listening to his heartbeat which is really strong. 

"You look so beautiful when you fall apart under me, love," he murmured, his fingers running through some of my long blonde locks. 

"And you wore me out. Bastard," I smirked, hearing him chuckle. 

"Okay, what's on your mind?. Alex?."

"Huh?. Oh...oh nothing."

"I don't believe you, love. Come on, talk to me," he said softly, me not even realising I'd gone quiet.

"Johnny, will you....ever tell me what happened in Newcastle?. I'm....I'm sorry, I...."

"It's okay. It's just....something I don't exactly share with many people."

"I shouldn't have asked," I sighed, sitting up moving to get out of bed, getting stopped by his hand grabbing my arm making me turn to look at him.

"Come here," he said pulling me back towards him making me sit in between his legs, his arms wrapping around my waist, his hands resting on my stomach, planting a gentle kiss to the anti possession tattoo I have inked on the back of my right shoulder. 

"She....was the daughter of a friend of mine. Astra, her name was. She ended up being possessed by a demon, a pretty powerful one. Stupid me thought I could save her by summoning a much more powerful demon to drag the lesser one back to hell. Didn't exactly go that way. He killed her right in front of me and my friends, dragged her to hell instead. I damned her as well as me own soul. Eleven years old and doomed to suffer eternal torment. And it was all my fault."

I turn to look at him, my hand cupping his cheek seeing the pain evident in his eyes. I move so my body is fully facing his own, kissing him gently, my other hand moving to his other cheek. 

"Johnny, I'm sorry. But you mustn't blame yourself. You tried to save her. I feel the same way you do, trust me. I still feel blame for every single innocent person I failed to save. What happened to Astra wasn't your fault and you definitely didn't deserve to have your own soul damned."

"When I heard about you, I....I automatically thought about Astra. You have no idea how hard it was to hear those words that you were in hell. I....care about you, Alex, more then I ever thought possible. And now you're back and in my arms, I'm not sure I can let you go."

"I'm....I'm sorry. You know I can't stay. I have to leave in the morning. Believe me if I didn't still have my brothers then I would stay with you in a heartbeat," I sighed. 

"I know. Let's just enjoy the next few hours together. I still haven't had enough of you," he smirked.

-x-

I turn the taps, cutting the water off, my hands moving to squeeze my soaking wet locks, unable to prevent the yawn from coming out, feeling completely exhausted knowing whose fault it was for my tiredness. 

It's been a few hours since John had left and I still don't feel completely recovered, my body still aching a little, but in a deliciously good way. These past few hours in between what little sleep I'd gotten, my thoughts had been on the secret I was keeping from my two brothers and Bobby. Was I truly brave and strong enough to tell them the truth, that I remember everything that had happened down in the pit?. Was I truly strong enough to tell them that I'd hurt innocent souls down there, that I'd gone from tortured to torturer?. 

I shiver, my mind straying to my time down there, my hands moving to cover my ears hearing Alastair's laughter, seeing him driving that blade into my stomach, my screams joining the thousand of others, closing my eyes, whimpering. I force it out of my mind, my eyes opening, my mind going still, moving out of the shower stall, grabbing a towel wrapping it around my still quite generous sized frame, moving over to the mirror above the sink. 

Suddenly, I freeze, the temperature of the air around me dropping drastically, making me shiver, my breath coming out in white plumes, the glass of the mirror frosting over. I move over to it slowly, my hand wiping the mirror. And my eyes land on a figure stood behind me, making me jump, spinning around to look at him.

"Hi, Alexandra. It's been a while."

My eyes widen a little, staring at him, watching his form flicker. He still looks exactly the same as the last time we met in that sheriff station, the last time I'd seen him alive. And I remember how close we'd gotten in spite of all the hell he'd put me and my brothers through with his obsessive manhunt. His death at the hands of Lilith had haunted me everyday since I'd seen that news report on the television in that motel room.

"V....Victor?. You....you didn't...."

"I didn't survive if that's what you mean."

"I'm...I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Look, if....if we'd known what was gonna happen then...."

"Then you wouldn't have left me in that place along with several other innocent people to die in your place. You....did this to me. Lilith was after you and I paid the price. You left us there to DIE."

I scream ending up getting thrown into the glass of the shower door smashing it, feeling some glass cut into my shoulder, collapsing to the ground. I move to get up getting stopped by his hand pushing inside my chest, grabbing onto my heart, feeling myself quickly start to weaken, struggling to breathe, everything around me going black.

Just as I'm about to black out, I hear a bang, the pressure easing off my heart, panting heavily, my vision clearing, seeing someone stood in the doorway. 

"S...Sam?. How....how did you find me?," I asked, my voice a little hoarse, watching him walk over to me, helping me up.

"Umm, Dean and I tracked your GPS. Thank God we got here on time," he sighed pulling me into a hug. 

"It....it was Henriksen. He....he tried to kill me."

"I know. He....came to me too."

"W....what the hell is going on, Sammy?," I asked pulling away from him, our eyes meeting. 

"I don't know, but we need to find out."


	9. Are you there, God?. It's me, Alexandra Winchester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have altered the name of the episode slightly as it's AJ who went to hell instead of Dean. I have a small idea I wanted to put in which will be connected to John Constantine.

"Damn it, Bobby. Look...just answer your phone, Doc, okay?," I muttered, my phone glued to my ear, hearing no answer coming from Bobby's place, feeling my worry very quickly heighten. 

"Henriksen?," asked Dean, looking from Sam next to him in the front of the car to myself in the back, watching me hang up, slipping my cell back in my jacket pocket.

"Yep," Sam said, myself nodding with him.

"Why?. What did he want?."

"What d'ya think, Dean?. Revenge, that's what. Cause I....we got him killed," I sighed, resting my hand on my forehead, my elbow resting on the windowsill next to me, my eyes drifting to outside, not seeing much of anything as it's dark.

"Alright, stop right there. Whatever's going on, it's happening to us now. Okay?. You clearly can't get ahold of Bobby. So if either of you aren't thinking answers, don't think at all."

I drop my hand from my head hearing my phone go off, pulling it out of my pocket, a frown setting in fast seeing John's name flash on the screen, answering it.

"John?. I....wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon, I....you what?. Crap!. How long ago did it happen?. I'm with my brothers now. We're going to Bobby's. Great, just...freakin' great. Okay. I'll, umm, get in touch with you once I know more. Bye."

"Okay, who the hell was that?," Dean asked, looking back at me.

"John."

"Wait, John Constantine?. What did he want?," Sam asked, turning around to look at me. 

"A....a friend of his was found dead a couple of hours ago, in his house. Same M.O as the other victims. He was a hunter. What the hell is going on, guys?."

For the first time since I was pulled out of the pit, I feel terrified. Three hunters have now ended up dead. What if Bobby is the next intended victim?. And what if I come face to face with another dead innocent soul I failed to save?.

-x-

"I got a bad feeling about this," I muttered under my breath, walking through the front door, my hands keeping a tight grip on my shotgun, Sam and Dean walking slightly ahead of me. 

"Bobby?," Dean shouted, moving fast into the kitchen, me and Sam following suit.

"Come on, Doc, answer us," I shouted, swallowing hard, Bobby nowhere to be found, the whole house feeling far too quiet. 

Suddenly, Dean spots something, snapping his fingers at me and Sam, indicating towards the object he spotted, us moving over to it, finding it's lying on the bottom step of the staircase. 

It looks like a iron poker, something Bobby keeps next to his fireplace. And it had clearly been used meaning Bobby had some uninvited guests himself, guests of the ghostly, vengeful kind. 

"Me and Matilda will check upstairs. Sammy, you go outside," Dean said, looking at Sam, him going the opposite direction to us, heading outside. 

"Bobby?," Dean shouted, moving onto the landing, myself following him, still receiving no answer. 

I jump a little, the doors suddenly slamming shut, instinctively moving closer to him, one door suddenly reopening by itself. 

"Come out, come out, wherever you are."

"Dean," I whispered, shivering, my breath coming out as white mist, my hand leaving my gun, grabbing onto his arm.

"Dean Winchester. Still so bossy."

We both spin around finding someone stood behind us, a woman, shoulder length dark blonde hair, her clothes dirty and kind of ragged. And I automatically know who she is even though she looks different, my grip tightening a little on my twin's arm.

"You don't recognise me?. I think your sister does, she was always good at remembering faces. This is what I looked like before that demon cut off my hair and dressed me like a slut."

"Meg?."

"Hi."

"Stay back," I said, raising my shotgun, pointing it at her, watching her raise her hands. 

"It's okay. I'm not a demon."

"You're the girl the demon possessed," Dean said, his shotgun aimed at her as well.

"Meg Masters. Nice to finally talk to you when I'm not....you know, choking on my own blood. It's okay. Seriously. I'm just a college girl. Sorry, was. I was walking home one night, got jumped by all this smoke. Next thing you know, I'm a prisoner in here. You know, I was awake. I had to watch while she murdered people."

"I'm....I'm sorry. We're sorry, Meg," I whispered, backing away from her a little. 

"Oh yeah?. So sorry you had me thrown off a building?."

"Well, we thought..."

"No, you didn't think. I kept waiting, praying. I was trapped in there, screaming at you, "Just help me, please!." You're supposed to help people. Why didn't you help me?."

"I'm sorry," Dean said, his voice shaking a little. 

"Stop saying you're sorry," Meg shouted, punching Dean in the face, knocking him to the floor. 

"Meg, stop!. We....we didn't know," I cried, getting kicked in the stomach, falling to the floor on my knees, wincing. 

"No. You just attacked. Did either of you think there was a girl in here?. No, you just charged in, slashing and burning. You think you're some kind of a hero?."

"No, I don't," Dean muttered, looking up at her.

"Damn right. Do you have any idea what it's like....to be ridden for months by pure evil...while your family has no idea what happened to you?."

"We did the best we could."

I cry out getting thrown into the wall, hitting my head collapsing to the floor, my hand moving to the place I knocked myself feeling what's clearly blood, trying to get back up finding I can't, watching Meg kick Dean in the stomach hard, hearing him grunt. 

"It wasn't just me, you know. I had a sister. A little sister. She worshipped me. You know how little siblings are, right?. How they'll do anything for you?. She was never the same after I disappeared. She just....she just got lost. And when my body was lying in the morgue?. Beat up, broken?. Do you know what that did to her?. She killed herself. Because of you and your precious siblings. Because all you were thinking about was your family, you revenge and your demons. Fifty words of Latin a little sooner and I'd still be alive. My baby sister would still be alive. THAT BLOOD IS ON BOTH YOUR HANDS!."

"You're...you're right. We...we failed you. We should have saved you. But we didn't," I said, wincing a little, the pain from where I cut my back a few hours earlier flaring up mixing with the pain in my head, my hand shakily pulling my smaller gun from the waistband of my pants, raising it, pointing it at her, watching her smirk. 

"Come on, AJ. Did your brain get french-fried in hell?. You can't shoot me with bullets."

"Oh this isn't for you,".

I move the gun up higher, firing, hitting the iron light fitting, knocking it down onto Meg, her spirit vanishing, dropping the gun, breathing heavily, my eyes closing, feeling darkness begin to set in.

"Woah, woah, hey?. AJ, open your eyes, okay?," Dean said softly, his hands cupping my cheeks, making me open them, looking droopily up at him.

"I'm....I'm okay. Think I....ripped my stitches open, though," I slurred, flopping forward, blackness at last claiming me.


	10. Are you there, God?. It's me, Alexandra Winchester Part Two

"So they're all people we know?."

"Not just know, Sammy. They're people we failed to save," I sighed, wincing a little, the pain in my back now mixing lovingly with the pain in my head in spite of the many painkillers I'd downed since I'd regained consciousness. 

Believe me, it had taken every ounce of strength I have in me to stop myself from cracking, from finally telling my brothers and Bobby the secret I'd been hiding from them since I dug myself out of my own coffin, the world of darkness I'd ended up in after passing out being stricken by yet more flashes of my time in the pit. How much longer could I keep this from them?. And which would hate me the more for, keeping it from them or knowing I'd tortured innocent souls for a decade?,

"I saw something on Meg. Did she have a tattoo when she was alive?," Dean asked, looking at our younger brother. 

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, I saw something as well, on Henriksen as well as Meg. It was like some sort of....brand or mark," I said, frowning a little getting up off the couch slowly, still feeling a little wobbly.

"What did it look like?," Bobby asked.

"Here, I'll draw it. Paper?."

I take the sheet of paper off him moving over to the desk, grabbing a pencil, starting to draw the mark. And my frown deepens, staring down at it, looking slowly back up at Bobby, letting him see it a few seconds later. 

"I may have seen this before. We gotta move. Follow me."

"Oh. Okay. Where are we going?," Sam asked, watching him gather up a small pile of his musty old books. 

"Some place safe, you idjit."

-x-

"It had to be in the basement. I hate fucking basements," I muttered, trailing behind my two brothers, the three of us following Bobby downstairs. 

"Still scared of basements, huh?," Dean smirked, getting a AJ bitch face off me. 

"I'm not scared of them. I just dislike them. Anyway, it's your fault for convincing me watching The Evil Dead when I was twelve was such a hot idea."

"Hey, think you'll find it was your idea. I just rolled with it."

"Have you two idjits quite finished?," Bobby asked, a little irritably, glaring at the pair of us, his hands unlocking what looks like a door, pretty old looking, the material it's made of looking iron like, pulling it open a minute later. 

"Whatever," I muttered walking in after them, still feeling a little uncomfortable. 

It's impossible to stop my jaw from dropping a little looking around the room Bobby had led us into which looks like it belongs in the military. It's fully stocked with weapons and ammunition, some books and what looks like an old fashioned radio on a desk. There's even a bed in here if a little on the small size. The walls look like they're fashioned from the same metal as the door. 

I jump a little hearing the door shut quite loudly getting another tiny smirk off my twin making me flip him off hearing him snort under his breath.

"Bobby....is this...?."

"Solid iron. Completely coated in salt. One hundred percent ghost-proof."

"A panic room. Genius," I grinned, my fear of basements lessening off a little. 

"You actually built one?," Sam questioned him, smiling a little. 

"I had a weekend off," Bobby shrugged. 

"Bobby?," Dean said. 

"What?."

"You're awesome."

"Totally awesome," I laughed. 

-x-

"This is why I can't get behind God," Dean said, looking up from the rock salt shotgun shells he'd been working on along with Sam, making me sigh, looking over at him from where I'm sat with Bobby, the two of us taking up the book questing.

"What are you talking about?," Sam asked, looking up at him.

"If he exists, fine. Bad crap happens to good people, that's how it is. And no rhyme or reason, just random, horrible, evil. I get it. Okay?. I can roll with that. But if he is out there....what's wrong with him?. Where the hell is he while all these decent people are getting torn to shreds?. How does he live with himself, you know?. Why doesn't he help?."

"I ain't touching this one with a ten-foot pole. Found it," Bobby said, tapping the page of the book he has in front of him.

"Thank God. Was starting to give up," I sighed, closing my book with a loud thud.

"The symbol you both saw. The brand on the ghosts. Mark of the Witness."

"Witness?. Witness to what exactly?."

"The unnatural. None of them died what you'd call ordinary deaths. See, these ghosts, they were forced to rise. They woke up in agony. They're like rabid dogs. It ain't their fault. Someone rose them on purpose."

"Who?," Sam frowned. 

"Do I look like I know?. But whoever it was used a spell so powerful it left a mark. A brand on their souls. Whoever did this had big plans. It's called the Rising of the Witnesses. It figures into an ancient prophecy."

"Wait, what. What book is that prophecy from?," Dean asked getting up walking over to us. 

"I've got a bad feeling about this," I muttered, swallowing hard.

"Well, the widely distributed version's just for tourists, you know. But long story short: Revelations. This is a sign."

"A sign of what?," Dean and Sam ask at the same time. 

"The apocalypse."

"Apocalypse?."

"Yep."

"As in "apocalypse" apocalypse?. The four horsemen, pestilence....$5-a-gallon-gas apocalypse?," Dean asked making me shoot him with a dirty mixed with worried look.

"Seriously, Dean, how many apocalypses do you know?," I snapped, resting my forehead in my hand then moving into my blonde locks. 

"That's the one. The Rise of the Witnesses is a....mile marker," Bobby explained. 

"Okay. So, what do we do now?," Sam asked. 

"Pfft. Road trip. Yeah. Grand Canyon, Star Trek experience, BunnyRanch," Dean said making me roll my eyes. 

"First things first. How about we survive our friends out there?," Bobby answered. 

"Great. Any ideas, aside from staying in this room until judgement day?."

"It's a spell to send the Witnesses back to rest. Should work."

"Then what are we waiting for?," I ask, dropping my hand then getting up.

"If I translated correctly. I think I got everything we need here at the house."

"Any chance you got everything you need here in this room?," Dean asked. 

"So you thought our luck was gonna start now all of a sudden?. Spell's gotta be cast over an open fire."

"Fireplace in the library," Sam smiled slightly. 

"Bingo."

"It's just not as appealing as a ghost-proof panic room, you know?," Dean said.

"Now can we get out of this basement," I mumbled, my words unfortunately being heard by my twin.

"And you're telling me you're not scared of basements."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am thinking about including an episode of Constantine. I am aware that the show began much later then SPN, but I am altering it as I'm including John in my story.


End file.
